


Le Mal Du Pays

by kisskissfallanddie



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, I don't want to upset anyone so tagging just to be safe, M/M, POV Multiple, hana is freakin awesome, jeans a dad, marcos a gay fashionable singleton, mina carolina for the win, older!jean, older!marco, very very brief and vague mention of suicide and depression, why cant i tag sensibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-04-19
Packaged: 2018-03-05 10:09:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3116201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisskissfallanddie/pseuds/kisskissfallanddie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My dad loves my mum and my mum loves my dad.<br/>Because that's how marriage works. That's how a relationship works. Or that's what I thought. </p><p>Hana Kirschtein's life is seemingly perfect. However she watches her parents struggle through a loveless marriage. But when her dad reveals his past love, she takes it upon herself to make things right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still don't know what I was waiting for  
> And my time was running wild  
> A million dead-end streets  
> and every time I thought I'd got it made  
> It seemed the taste was not so sweet  
> So I turned myself to face me  
> But I've never caught a glimpse  
> Of how the others must see the faker  
> I'm much too fast to take that test
> 
> Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes  
> (Turn and face the strain)  
> Ch-ch-Changes  
> Don't want to be a richer man  
> Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes  
> (Turn and face the strain)  
> Ch-ch-Changes  
> Just gonna have to be a different man  
> Time may change me  
> But I can't trace time
> 
> David Bowie - Changes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohoho man am I excited for this one! so instead of working on From Nowhere Ch.4 my brain thought it would be a good idea to start a whole new one, great. So basically i'll not upload ch.2 until the new From Nowhere is up. I really hope you enjoy this! Comments and kudos make my heart sing btw ^-^

My dad loves my mum and my mum loves my dad. 

Because that's how marriage works. That's how a relationship works. Or that's what I thought.

My whole life I've been obsessed with romance. Intimacy. Love. Falling in love. Being loved. These were the only thoughts that occupied my tween mind. Falling in love with a bright eyed boy, he'd make me feel like I never had before and we'd say sappy shit like I love you to the moon and back. That was me at age eleven. Looking back, I figure I just wanted to replicate the feelings I thought my parents had for each other.

Being fickle, as children often are, I went off the idea of falling in love and finding the one. It didn't seem possible. No matter how many books I read, films I watched, songs I listened to, the whole notion of falling in love didn't seem plausible. How could you love someone that completely? Offering up your heart and soul to them and they could do as they pleased with it. It was dangerous, self sacrificial and self destructive. I had sworn off falling in love for good. That was me at age 14.   

I had planned on keeping this idea in place.

I'm from a good family. My parents were high school sweethearts, or they've told me so. They're both loving and accepting. I have a huge family which extends beyond my blood relations. Me and my younger brother Laurence are extremely close and by younger I mean by like 2 minutes. We're well off, living in a respectable house, in a respectable town, in a respectable area. We go about our daily business living our unremarkable yet respectable lives. 

We are the very image of white, middle class stability, and for that I'm grateful. But for my dad, something is clearly missing. He's a great dad, don't get me wrong. Whenever he thinks no one is watching him, he retreats to another place. And in those few seconds he's in that other place, I see it, plain as day. A part of him is missing. A part he can't properly live without. And when I see it, my heart breaks for him. I often wonder what shape the missing part takes. Is it a career? A house? A family member? A friend? A person?

And then there's my mother. A smile barely breaks her apathetic mask. But when it does you know it's for something meaningful. My mum is one of the most loving people I know, I just think she has trouble showing it. She trained herself to be like that when she was younger, and now she doesn't know how to stop. She donned that mask to protect herself and she left it there for a long time, until it eventually became a part of her and she couldn't tell the difference between the mask and her real face. 

I don't think they love each other. Not anymore. And if they do still love each other, they don't love the way they should.

It came with the New Year. I made my choice. I am going to make them happy again.

 

* * *

We are all sat around the kitchen table eating our special New Year's Day breakfast when my mum spoke. "How about after breakfast we walk down into Trost and visit Uncle Eren and Levi?" Uncle Eren and Levi well, they're married and I have to say, they are the only exception to my true love doesn't exist thing. Eren is my mum's adopted brother, and one of my dad's best friends. Levi is just Levi. He physically gives me strength. He is one sassy motherfucker. I adore him. He has this whole 'stay the fuck away from me, I don't have time for gross brats like you' act but he's just a huge softie at heart.

My dad just grunts and shrugs in response. Mum frowns at him and moves to stack our now empty plates. The air is thick. 

"Well I think it's a great idea! We haven't seen them since Christmas." Laurence chirps. Personally, I don't know where he gets his cheery disposition from. It's almost like me, mum and dad have no effect on him. He's highly extroverted and he lives with a bunch of introverts. I kinda feel sorry for him in that respect.

Mum nods once and shoots a look at my dad. He looks almost tempted to roll his eyes, but decides against it. It's been like this a lot recently, mum and dad just making little digs at each other to piss the other one off, and it's working. My cue to leave then.

"I'm having a shower now." I push my chair out and wince at the awful scraping sound it makes against the kitchen floor. I tuck it in, then bolt upstairs.

My mum calls out after me, " Hana, don't take too long."

* * *

 

I took too long. 

Hot water does the thing. You all know the thing. You get in the shower, and you spend ages getting the right temperature and warming up. Then for no apparent reason you just stand there. At first thinking about nothing. Then you move onto stuff like wondering what's for dinner. Then you get all the songs from Les Miserables stuck in your head. And from that comes a deep pondering about civil wars and how people of the same blood can fight that awfully. That train of thought eventually leads you on to your own blood. You think about the breakfast you just shared with your family. You think about how your parents aren't in love anymore. You think about what _you_ can do it make it better. And before you know it, your mum's knocking on the door telling you to get out and you haven't so much as touched the shampoo. 

"Shit, yeah I'll be out in a few minutes. Can't Laurence use your shower?" I scrabble for the shampoo and conditioner bottles and squirt a good amount of both into the palm of my hand. I give the chemical shitstorm a quick stir then slap it onto my head. Who needs 2 in 1 when you can just make your own?

"Your dad just got in. I want to leave soon and you've been in the shower for nearly 40 minutes Hana." My mum sounds resigned and tired, like she's ready to give up. Give up what I don't know, but I'm not liking how that sounds on her. 

I try to sound as apologetic as I can, "'M sorry mum, I didn't mean to." I hear her sigh and a thump, which I can only assume is her head resting on the door. I tack on a quick "I love you mum."

"I know sweetie, just be out soon okay?" And with that I hear the creak of the floorboards as she moves away from the door. 

"Fuck" I rinse off my hair as quick as humanly possible and all but leap out of the shower. I've never been one for making an effort when it comes to my appearance. I figure I just look pretty average. About as average as you can get when your dad's French and your mum is half Japanese. Straight black hair, almond shaped dark brown eyes, and pale skin. I don't wear make-up and I barely ever brush my hair. I kind of just roll out of bed and go about my merry way. My dad does the same, he has this awful haircut that he's kept since he was like 20. It's an undercut with a dyed blonde fringe thing on the top, well it better be dyed or dad's just got really bad hair. I think he's kept it to annoy mum mostly. She hates it. Sometimes she threatens to shave it off when he's sleeping. 

I'm rummaging around on my floor based wardrobe when dad knocks on the door. I answer without even looking up. "You don't need to knock dad, I've told you like a bajillion times, I'm not naked or doing anything illegal so you can come in." With that the door is pushes open and dad peeps his head tentatively around the side. I look up. 

"Oh dad." I drop the jumper I've got in my hands and rush over to him. He looks broken, even more so than usual. I open my arms wide and he practically flies into them. I hold him and stroke his back.

He needs these hugs. When things get frosty between him and mum, he comes running to me for comfort. I don't mind, I just want to help him feel better. 

I murmur into his shoulder, telling him that I love him and it's ok to be sad. He sniffles before clearing this throat. "Hana, you shouldn't have to keep doing this for me." I squeeze him tighter. "I can't keep expecting you to comfort me when things get difficult; it's not fair on you"

"Dad, I like hugging you. You're a good hugger kay?" He pulls back and looks me in the eye.

"You're too good to be true Hana." He ruffles my hair and retreats to the door with a finish getting dressed or your mum will leave without us. I throw on a grossly oversized jumper, shove my phone in my jean's pocket and go downstairs. 

 

* * *

 

We arrive at Levi and Eren's apartment in record time, mainly because mum walked briskly ahead the whole walk down into Trost. As we cross the road to the apartment building, I slip my gloved hand to my dad's. Even through the fleece I can tell he's freezing. Stubborn old man. It had started snowing just before we left the house. 

We all cross the road together then mum completely ditches us and practically runs into the lobby and up the stairs.

"Oh fuck that." Dad mutters as we shuffle through the revolving door. "Kid's, like shit am I walking up 8 flights of stairs, we're taking the lift." Laurence, the fucking suck up, shakes his head and starts off towards the stairwell. 

"I'm going to check if mum's ok. I'll see you up there?" Dad just sighs and runs a hand through his god-awful hair. With that Laurence darts off the up the stairs.

I'm still holding dad's hand. He needs the constant reminder that he's alright. Something physically holding him down, so he doesn't blow away. It should be mum. I'm the next best thing. To say we're close is an understatement. He's my best friend. I really just want him to be happy. And right now he isn't happy. This thing with mum is slowly tearing them both apart from the inside out. You wouldn't really know if anything was wrong unless you cared enough to look. 

We step in the lift, and we each retreat to opposite corners. I glance up at him. He looks tired. So very tired. It makes him look much older than he actually is. His brow furrows and the crow's feet around his eyes become more pronounced. 

"We can always go home early if you want, make up some bullshit excuse about the snow." He doesn't even look at me. He just grunts. He's retreating to the past again.

"Where is it you go?" I whisper softly. He jerks his head to look at me. I'm surprised he even heard that over the generic lift music. He glares at me for a few seconds before dropping his gaze almost sheepishly.

He breathes out slowly. "Nowhere important." I know he's lying, but I don't want to press him.

The lift doors ding open and we exit in silence. I offer out my hand and he takes it again. He smiles wistfully down at me and I try to smile back without breaking out into tears. I hate seeing him like this. 

"Hey now munchkin, don't be getting all teary eyed over me. I'm alright see? I'm fine. I promise ok?" 

I sniffle and quickly wipe my eyes. Curse my over active tear ducts, I'm meant to be the strong one. 

"Will you tell me the truth one day?"

"I'll try"

We round the corner from the lift and tread the unnecessarily fancy carpet until we reach apartment 125. Before dad could even knock on the door, it was flung open by none other than Uncle Eren.

"Ahah!! The grumpy Kirschteins finally made it!" Dad rolls his eyes then pushes his way inside. Eren ushers me through the door then calls over his shoulder, "Levi, you're favourite niece has arrived!!"

"About fucking time." I hear Levi grumble, I chuckle lightly as I hastily pull off my shoes and coat. I take special care to store them neatly, as Levi hates mess of any kind. I run down the hall into the living room where my mum is already sat nursing a cup of tea. I practically fly into Levi's arms and snuggle into them. He hates to admit it but he's a sucker for cuddles. "Aww did you miss me, _Uncle_ Levi?" I stress the Uncle, knowing full well he hates it and flash him a smirk.

"Tsk. You wish _niece_ , now get the fuck off before I throw you off." Begrudgingly I move off and lie flat out along the sofa's length, leaving my feet in his lap. I hear Eren clattering about in the kitchen with Laurence, chattering joyfully about something or other. Those two get along like a house on fire. 

"Eren, can I have a hot chocolate please?" I call out to him. I'm really feeling a nice warm liquid heaven beverage right now.

"Already making one now sweetheart."

I snort, I basically had Eren eating out the palm of my hand. "Great minds think alike." I shout back to him.

"And fools seldom differ!!" Thanks a fucking lot Laurence. There's some sort of scuffle and I can only imagine Eren tried to hit him upside the head.

Mum and Levi are in quiet conversation, probably about work since they're both accountants. The only absentee is dad, which is strange, he came in before me.

"Hey, where's dad?" I ask to no-one in particular. 

"In the bathroom." Came the reply from no-on in particular. 

I sit up slowly and swing my legs around to rest my feet carefully on the floor. Feet are strange things don't you think? I stare at my bare toes, mapping out every lump, bump and oddity. Sometimes a girl's just gotta stare at her feet. I sigh loudly. Loudly enough for Levi to tell me to stop staring at my feet like a fucking weirdo. Right, I was going to find dad, not marvel about how I manage to stand on such tiny appendages.

I push up from the sofa with an exaggerated groan, and pad towards the bathroom. Flicking on the hall light, I knock tentatively on the door. There's no reply. I press my ear to the cold wood and I can hear shuffling and snuffles. 

"Dad?" I say cautiously, "Can I come in?" 

He clears his throat then replies in a tone that makes it obvious that he's been crying. "The door's unlocked." Fuck, this is really bad. He hardly ever cries. And when he does it's usually over something big.

I pull open the door to him sat on the closed toilet seat rubbing his eyes. His eyes meet mine, they're wide, red rimmed and swollen. More tears gather in the corners, threatening to spill over and run down his already wet cheeks. I stay standing in the doorframe, waiting.

"Just my contacts you know, giving me a bit of trouble."

"Dad, you wore your glasses here." He isn't even trying to come up with a convincing lie.

"Why won't you talk to me?" He sniffs then looks at me again.

"You sound just like Mikasa."

"But I'm not her. We're not the same. You should know you really can talk to me." I cross the tiled floor to kneel in front of him. I gently pull his hands apart and place them on his knees. I hold them steady and squeeze them when they start shaking again. My thumbs run across his knuckles soothingly.

"Don't." He rasps at me, and jerks his hands away quickly. I start back and sit back on my heels.

"Don't what dad?" I demand of him sharply. "Don't be a good daughter? Don't care about my dad's mental stability? Don't notice that you're slowly retreating into yourself? Don't love you?"

"Hana.."

"No. Don't fucking 'Hana' me. What is going on with you?" I retake his hands and squeeze them tighter. I try to look into his eyes, but he moves away to glare at the shower opposite. I try again. "What're you thinking now?"

"I miss him." He barely makes a sound, but I hear him loud and clear.

"Who do you miss?" I whisper.

"It doesn't matter. Not anymore." He wipes his eyes one last time and stands up. He ruffles my hair and goes back into the living room. Leaving me slumped on the freezing bathroom floor, confused and trying desperately not to cry. 

The sounds of the apartment become muffled as I try to control my shuddering breaths.

* * *

 We walked home in silence. Not even Laurence dared to say a word. The only sound was our laboured breathing and the software pitter patter of the snow as it fell to the ground. After a full day of lounging at Levi and Eren's we bid them goodbye before it got dark. All the way home the atmosphere had been frosty, but it had nothing to do with the snowflakes swirling around us without a care in the world. Dad wouldn't even look at me. Mum marched on ahead, dad trailed behind, me and Laurence just floundered in the middle, unsure of what to do. 

The silence didn't break when we arrived home either. We went about our normal routine of: clearing the table, laying the table, cooking the meal, eating, clearing away and washing up. But all completed in silence. After dinner, we all retreated to opposite corners of the house to finish our silent evening alone. 

* * *

 

I awake with a jump at the sound of my door being opened. It's still pitch black outside. I fumble around in the darkness for my alarm clock. The harsh white light from the display tells me it's 2 in the morning. I look over to the door and see that it's dad. I wriggle around until I'm sat upright. I fling open the covers and pat the empty mattress beside me.

I hear the door close with a soft click. Dad tries to navigate his way to my bed without breaking his neck on the many items of clothing scattered on the floor. I feel the mattress dip as he climbs in. He makes to lie down, and I oblige, even if it's a bit of a squeeze in my modest single bed.

"Were you on the sofa bed?" I sigh into the darkness.

I feel him nod against my shoulder.

The night looks thick. Like I could reach out and cut a piece of it away, my own personal shadow. I reach my hands up to do so, but I'm only met with air, not the thick velvety blackness only 2 o'clock can bring. 

We lie there in the night, waiting. Waiting for what who knows? But it's the only thing we know how to do. 

The wait seems to be over now, the catch of the night has been caught as my dad whispers into the unforgiving night. 

"I was in love with a man."

What a catch indeed. The silent wait was worth the trouble.

"In university." I wait again. Not wanting to scare away whatever has decided to show itself now.

A gasping sigh is engulfed by the night. "He wrote me poems." Trembling.

"He was called Marco." Hot tears slip away as he struggles to continue.

"I tried to find him." The dark presses down on us.

"But I can't remember his last name."

Silence. The night has wrest from him the very core of his being and exposed it.

But the night does not care what it has done, it's only purpose is to keep morning at bay. 

Waiting.

Slowly we slip back into the comfortable embrace of sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I completely forgot to put on an end note, but here it is now anyway. I took inspiration for this when my mum told me she was in love with a girl in university, but they never dated or anything because she was too scared. So I thought hmmmm who does that sound like and thus this was born. The title Le Mal Du Pays can be translated as homesickness. I suggest listening to the piano piece Le Mal Du Pays by Franz Liszt performed by Lazar Berman. Thanks for reading!!! ^-^


	2. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an art to life's distractions,  
> To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through,  
> Some like to imagine,  
> The dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do.
> 
> Would things be easier if there was a right way?  
> Honey, there is no right way
> 
> Hozier - Someone New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey there, what a quick turnaround! I can't believe it's only been a week since chapter 1. Ok so i lied i didn't update From Nowhere, but shhh i'll do that soon. I was on such a roll with this i really wanted to update. Only a short chapter this time around but there's about 700 words of smut you lucky things, or not so lucky depending on how well it's written (which is not very well i'm rubbish at writing the sexy times). Next chapter will be Jean POV, so look forward to that one. Thank you to everyone who's read, subscribed and kudosed this it really means a lot and gives me a huge confidence boost. Enjoy! ^-^

Waking up is painful. I follow the same routine every morning. I work myself up into my image of Mr. Sunshine and Rainbows. I don't think I've ever smiled properly since he left. It's cliché, but that's why they are cliché is it not? When something happens so often it just becomes laughable. I don't even need to say the gap he left could never be filled, because it's expected. I don't need to tell you, I try to fill the void with colourful clothes and fake smiles because you've heard it all before. The fact I threw myself into my career is irrelevant, because you don't care about that. You only want to know why I let it get this bad. Why couldn't I just brush myself off and carry on? I wish I could tell you why. I wish I didn't have to live like this. I keep telling myself everything will be fine if I can just get through the year, then the month, the week, the day, the hour, the minute. _If you get can yourself through this one second without feeling empty, you can be proud._ How pathetic. It's a wonder I've managed for nearly 17 years this way. Why didn't I throw in the towel when the problem didn't go away? I only kept soldiering on because the most tiny and naive part of me thought, _what if he changes his mind?_ It's like a hole in the sole of your shoe. Small at first and it doesn't cause much hassle, but the longer you keep moving, the larger it gets, until there comes a time when you have to throw them away. There's always going to be that niggling thought at the back of your head, underlying all your thoughts, the unconscious reason for all the decisions you make. _What if. What if. What if. What if._

What if I could feel whole again.

What if he came back.

What if he never left.

What if I never got ill.

What if we never met. 

The cycle continues. Round like a circle in a spiral, like a wheel within a wheel. Never ending or beginning on an ever spinning reel... God I've been listening to way to much Dusty Springfield recently. 

I snap out of my thoughts as my phone buzzes violently on the dresser, signifying that it's time to start the day. I've woken up early again. The day ahead seems grey. It's one of those days. We all have them, just some more often than others. Most of mine are blue, black and grey. There is a difference. Blue is pure sadness, black often anger and malice whilst grey is by far the worst type of day. Grey days are filled with nothing. Numb is the only sensation on a grey day. 

I stretch out my long limbs across the bed and feel the cold seep into my bones. I wonder why I even own a double bed, it's just me, all alone in the apartment I've owned since I was 20 years old. I really should buy a single bed, it's not like I'm getting any. I haven't even managed to get it up since then. How tragic, a healthy young man becomes impotent after his lover leaves him in the lurch after a potentially life threatening surgery. Sex or even masturbation had never really interested me after the operation. We never even went all the way, our sexual escapades never going further than messy hand and blow jobs, so I don't know why it affects me so much.

I thumb over the dark pink notches of scar tissue on my stomach. They were meant to fade, but they never did. The largest scar is about 5cm down from my belly button and slightly to the right, it's almost as wide as my index finger. I trace over it and the skin above and below it. I still can't feel my finger run over the lumpy flesh. It's completely dead and unresponsive.

I hate my scars. Not because they're ugly, but because they're a constant reminder of the exact day my life fell apart. They say you soon forget about them, scars become as much a part of your body as freckles or moles, and you don't recognise them as something abnormal. I feel mine every second of every day. If I stretch too much they pull and ache like the skin could just burst apart at any second. Phantom flesh.

My second alarm buzzes, causing me to jump. I've been inside my own head as usual. I finally make it out of bed and wander into the hallway. The frigid air on my bare body makes my skin tingle and my hair stand on end. I'd gotten into a habit of wandering about my home naked, there was something liberating about it. Still, it's much too cold this morning to embrace my inner naturist, so I dart back into my room and snag my dressing gown. Shrugging the fluffy material onto my shoulders I stumble into the kitchen to make a mug of coffee. I lean against the counter and stare out of the window which makes up the whole wall. I think about the last time I looked at the same view.

_"Hgn...J-Jean." I gasp and writhe against the counter top, as Jean takes more of my length into his mouth. My already dark red face flushes even more as he smirks around my cock and raises on thin eyebrow. This man will be my downfall. I shakily remove my hands from the worktop and move them to his soft tawny hair. I curl my fingers and tug gently, making him moan. I shiver as he keeps moaning and gasping around me, sending vibrations up my spine. Movement catches my eye and I watch as he pull out his own cock and begins pulling, twisting and teasing it in time with his mouth. A loud moan rips from the back of my throat as his tongue laves over my head and sucks on it slowly. He looks back up at me, his eyes glazed with lust and mouth stretched prettily around me. He keeps eye contact as he moves further and further down at an agonizingly slow pace. His large warm hands rub up and down my inner thighs and rest on my hips. He gives them a sharp squeeze when the tip of my cock hits the back of his throat and I accidentally buck into his delicious heat._

_"Mgh, sorry baby." I manage to gasp out. He gives my hips a reassuring stroke and starts to move back and forth vigorously, all the while his tongue swirling around my shaft. I stare at his neglected cock, resting heavily between his thighs. I tug on his hair. "Hey baby, come up here will you?" Almost reluctantly he pulls off with a lewd pop. His lips are swollen and glistening in the light._

_"What's up?" His voice is slightly raspy. Without answering I pull him closer, wrapping my arms about his thin waist, reeling in him until our foreheads touch. I stare deep into his hazel eyes, and I know he is looking into mine, looking into my heart. It's often said that the eyes are the window to the soul and for a long time I didn't believe it to be true. Staring into Jean's it is plain to see that he loves me, even if he's never verbalised it. The realisation sends a flash of sadness through me, why hasn't he told me? I can only hope that one day I'll hear those three words pass his lips._

_"Marco?" He begins to question, but before he can finish I cut him off with a soft kiss. He smiles gently. He leans back in and I meet him halfway, lips moving together heatedly as he deepens the kiss. My hand moves downwards and I clasp mine and his in my hand. The feeling is all too much, I'm overwhelmed by everything. His hot skin on mine, the damask softness of his lips, breathy gasps in my ears and the white hot bliss pooling in my gut as we both hurtle towards climax. Not for the first time today do I realise this feeling, that I've been passing off as a strong like for the past few months, is in all sense of the word, love. That I love the man I hold in my arms, I love everything about him. I wouldn't give him up for the world. We come at the same time. Both caught by surprise. We laugh. I hold the back of his head and the stroke the short hairs there with my thumb. There's a stupid grin on my face. He moves off and curls up into my side. The setting sun bathes us in golden light. I have to tell him. If I don't tell him now I'll regret it. His head is leaning on my shoulder. The dust motes whirl around us. He breathes in._

_"Jean. I love you."_

I snap out of the past as the kettle whistles. I think of that scene more times than I care to remember. Who even knows if it's entirely accurate? How do I know that I didn't just create that memory? The thing is I don't. I can't remember if it's the truth or a figment of my imagination anymore. I definitely know I told Jean I loved him when we looked out on the sunset, but before that anything could've happened. It's all just a haze of kissing and feeling good, seen through heavily rose-tinted glasses. I can only fully remember the bad things.

* * *

I somehow made it to work this morning. I work in a small illustration and animation company. It's fun and the people are nice. It's what I need.

"Oooooh Marco, looking very flash today! Got a hot date?" Mina giggles and nudges my side playfully. I glance down at what I had haphazardly thrown on this morning. Maroon patent brogues, sand chinos rolled up to the ankles, a white dress shirt and a soft grey cardigan. Nothing special, but Mina always thinks I look fabulous, as she often tells me. She's a good 10 years younger than me, but she's one of my best friends in work.

"Not looking so bad yourself Mina." She has the decency to blush. She places a hand dramatically over her heart.

"One tries one's best." She proclaims so loudly, most of the floor turn around to see what the commotion is. It's true that she's looking very sweet today. Her hair is parted into her signature bunches and she's sporting a brightly printed floral pinafore, on top of a fuchsia chiffon blouse.

"How're things with Thomas?"

She blushes again and moves her hands to lightly brush against her earlobes, which I now notice are adorned with a pair of large pearl earrings. " Well you know he took me to a really fancy restaurant for our anniversary?" She asks tentatively. I nod in agreement. She touches her earrings again. "He gave me these beautiful vintage earrings, which I'd been eyeing up for months, and that's not even the best part!" I nod again prompting her to continue. "He asked me to move in with him!!" She practically squeals. 

"Congratulations Mina!" I smile broadly, and pull her in for a quick hug. I'm genuinely happy for her, she deserves the best.

"Say, Marco, you absolutely have to come out for drinks with me, Thomas and the girlies from work, as a celebration of sorts. Whadd'ya say?"

My brain says no way this is a really bad idea, you get needy, clingy and weepy when you get drunk and boy will Mina make sure you get drunk. However, my polite and good nature says that it'd be rude to decline. 

"Of course! I take it we'll be going to Rose?"

"You know it! We'll be meeting there around 8ish. Everyone will be there, even Hanji!" Giggling excitedly, she turns to walk to her workstation, as we've just been hanging around in the break room.

I swear I hear her muttering "Ohoohh I'm gonna get him absolutely hammered."

I sigh, regretting my well mannered upbringing, with Hanji going there will definitely be no way whatsoever to wheedle my way out of drinking. Tonight will consist of me making an absolute fool of myself. In front of all my work colleagues. Getting drunk is dangerous. Not in the sense that it destroys your liver, but it forces you to do things you'll regret. I don't want to reveal anything that could come back to bite me on the backside. Letting Jean's existence slip could have huge repercussions for me, especially when I have such nosy co-workers. Or even worse, I could end up doing something crazy, some thing I would never dream of doing sober. I could end up trying to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, just to clarify this was MARCO's pov in case anyone was confused. I made some polyvore sets for mina, hana and marco if you'd like to check them out. Please do let me know if i should keep doing them, i honestly had loads of fun making them  
> [ Mina. ](http://www.polyvore.com/mina_carolina/set?id=148403758)  
> [Marco](http://www.polyvore.com/marco_bodt/set?id=148404014)   
> [ Hana ](http://www.polyvore.com/hana_kirschtein/set?id=148406721)  
> Until next time folks


	3. Pusher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you a pusher or are you a puller?  
> I pull the weight towards me  
> And I lack the zest of a lemon looking forward  
> Unless I have a woman pushing me
> 
> Are you a pusher or are you a puller?  
> We could hold hands for fifteen minutes in the sauna  
> We could hold hands for a pool length underwater  
> I can push and pull  
> Her
> 
> If you're willing to wait for the love of your life  
> Please wait by the line
> 
> Alt-J - Pusher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, here's a cheeky Jean chapter, ok maybe it's not that cheeky but whatever. I really wanted to show the state of the relationships in the Kirschtein household this time around. I really hope you enjoy it! As ever kudos and comments make me really confident and happy, and thank you to everyone who's done so already! I love you all!! Enjoy... ^-^

I hated my life when I was 20. I really fucking hated it. Now I'm able to look back, I realise how lucky I was.

I was living scared. I was scared of fucking everything, everything that could go wrong and everything that could go right.I was constantly inside my own head, second guessing every single decision I made. I was always weighing up options, speculating what could go wrong, calculating the effect it would have on me. It didn't make me smart or a better person. It made me paranoid, narcotic and selfish. I see that now and in more ways than one it ruined my life.

Only 2 good things came out of it all, my children who I love more than anything. If it wasn't for them I don't know where I'd be now. They're the fucking light of my life and that's no lie. I can't believe that they're nearly 17. It only feels like yesterday that the nurse placed them into my arms. No-one can prepare you for the powerful rush of indescribable emotion that washes over you when you see your child for the first time. I remember every detail vividly. I remember the nurse was called Nifa. I remember how many times Mikasa screamed at me to stay the fuck away from her during her labour (18 times). I remember how many cigarettes I smoked. I remember exactly what I ate and at what time. I remember how I cried just as much as the babies when I held them. I remember deciding their names immediately. Hana - Japanese for flower and Laurent meaning from the place of laurel trees. Mikasa thought it better if we used the English equivalent for Laurent, considering how much shit I got for my own name.

Hana and Laurence Kirschtein. Mikasa and Jean Kirschtein. We were the perfect family. We could still be the perfect family if I hadn't let my fears and weakness get the better of me. My worst nightmare has the most beautiful shape. Mikasa knows what it looks like, in fact everyone knows. Everyone knows I was in love with Marco but cast him away because I was frightened. Frightened of what? Of wanting the  _perfect_ life? Of wanting the person I'd spend the rest of my life with to be Marco? Frightened of being in love? All of the above are true. I told you before I was scared of everything, even the good things. 

I've ruined another good thing, by telling Hana about him. She didn't need to know at all. What did I expect when the words fell free? Did I think the weight on my chest would go away? If I thought I was naive then, is there even a word that'll describe how foolish and hopeful it was of me to think that now? He used to tell me that words make everything better, that talking is the only way to solve problems because there are no such things as mind readers. He could never tell me why talking was so difficult if it was meant to be the miracle cure for all problems. He could never tell me why when I spoke from the heart I hurt even more people. He never told me why when I talk about my problems nothing happens, nothing magically gets better, that the weight doesn't disappear.

If he was here now what would he say to me?

* * *

 I'm sat alone in the living room, channel surfing when Hana comes home from school. She tosses her bag on the floor, kicks off her shoes and flops onto the sofa next to me. She groans into the soft leather. I reach out to stroke her hair. 

"How ya doin babycakes?"

"I hate school."

I chuckle at that. She's exactly like me, Laurence fortunately acquired his mother's conscientious nature.

"Me too. You want anything to eat?" I get up, leaving her sprawled on the sofa like a huge spidery creature, I swear she's all leg. She'll be taller than me soon. I flick on the kitchen lights and sigh at the huge mess of dirty dishes and general detritus littering the counter tops. Mikasa set me the task of tidying the house on my day off, and I haven't done a single thing. I couldn't even tell you where the hoover is.

"Does toast sound ok? We don't have much in, your mum's going shopping tomorrow." I shout through to Hana. 

I get a groan in response. I wish it was still socially acceptable for me to communicate in grunts, groans and moans. It'd suit me a whole lot better. I'm not so good with the whole being polite thing, even though I've had years of practice. I still manage to rub people up the wrong way whenever I open my mouth.

"I'm going to Uncle Eren's after school tomorrow."

I put the bread in the toaster and flick it on. 

"Why?"

There's a pause, like she's trying to think up an excuse, every suspicious if you ask me.

"Uhh. Levi's helping me with some maths work."

Right. Very believable. Why would she feel the need to go to Levi when Mikasa is also an accountant?

"Your mum could help you know. I could as well, I have a chemistry degree you know. It was very mathsy. I'm sure I could handle whatever it is your doing, as long as it's not like long division or something. God I suck at that." I continue grumbling even though I know she's not listening. It's not even gonna make a slight bit of difference, even if she is paying attention, she's as stubborn as a mule.

"You two are busy, plus Eren feeds me chocolate."

I knew there was a reason Hana liked going so much. That god damn Jaeger-Ackerman's stealing my daughter with chocolates. The toaster pops and I pluck out the now-toast and butter it. I take a massive bit out of one slice as payment and deliver it.

"Bon appetite." I say with a smirk as I hand her the plate and sit down, kicking my feet up onto the footstool.

"You've eaten about half of it dad!" She accuses.

"I have not; do you need your eyes testing Hana? There is obviously more than half still left on that plate."

"In your fucking dreams." She grumbles and sullenly nibbles at the slice.

"Does it taste nice?" I decide to jibe her even more.

"It's toasted bread and fucking butter. How do you think it tastes? Oh wait you already know because you hate half of the fucking thing!"

I gasp melodramatically."Hana, how can you accuse me of such heinous crimes?"

"Ugh dad, go fuck a duck, seriously I'm not in the mood."

I ruffle her hair as she sets the plate aside with a sharp clink. "Ok sweetie, just make sure to take a break if school's kicking your ass too hard. Also tone down your language before your mum gets home or she'll have my guts for garters."

At the mention of Mikasa, she crawls into my arms and looks like she's about to cry.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's this all of a sudden?"

She just sniffles and shakes her head against my chest. Her breathes are long and shuddering. I pat her back cautiously. I never really know how to comfort people.

"Tell me about Marco."

I'm drowning. She catches me off guard and sends me plummeting into ice cold realisation. I told her. _She knows. And now she wants to know more._ The self hating shadow returns from the grave, where I thought I'd buried it long ago. It comes back with a vengeance. _This is what you get when you try to be better. What did you expect? You think she still loves you after what you told her? Who could ever love someone like you? Not even Marco could._ The words continue, swirling around me, jabbing, poking and scratching at every inch of exposed skin. It hurts. It hurts so badly. I just want to curl up into a ball and wait for it to stop. But I can't. I can't and I won't let it destroy me from the inside out again. I've banished it before and I can do it again.

Silence. The quiet of the room is weighing down on me. The only thing I can hear is the slow metronomic tick tock of the large wall clock. _Tick Tock_. The ticking is pounding in my head to a devilish beat along with the repeating chorus of: _Not even Marco could love you._. My breathing's getting shallower. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead. My stomach's churning.

"Dad?" Hana barely breathes.

I jump back to reality at the sound of her concerned voice. All thoughts silenced at the drop of a hat, like they never even took up residence in my head. I steel myself and take a deep breath, in through the mouth, out the nose.

I steel myself and take a deep breath, in through the mouth, out the nose.

"I can't sweetheart. I'm sorry." I prepare for the worst, screaming, crying, hysterics, more questions, anything but the simple nod in understanding.

"Ok." She whispers.

Shakily, I reach out to dry the tears that are threatening to spill. "Don't be sad ok? It's all in the past now." My voice wavers and cracks in the middle of the sentence.

She nods again. "I'm going to my room. I've got err. homework." She grabs her bag, and scurries upstairs.

I slump back into the cushion, feeling suddenly empty and exhausted.

If he was here now, what would he say to me?

* * *

Half of the time I'm not even cognizant of my own movements. I'm not awake during the day. Everything passes me by in a monochrome blur. And endless reel of a silent black and white film that no-one wants to watch. A film that not even the accompanist showed up for. It flickers silently, repeating constantly. Playing over and over until it burns out, until the reel bursts into colour and destroys itself.

I watch everyone move on, they're talking but they only speak at me, not to me. I stay stood still because even the smallest movement takes a huge amount of effort. When I'm not watching the ever-moving mass of faceless people, I'm thinking about him.

"Jean."

"Hmm."

"Jean!"

My eyes snap open at the sound of my name being called more urgently. They're blurry with sleep and slowly they focus onto a very angry looking Mikasa. She's sat immediately in front of me, eyes cold, lips pursed and brow furrowed. Looking to the side, towards the door, I see Laurence's school bag and shoes. How long have I been sat here? I glance at the large wall clock behind her head. It reads 7:30pm. Hana came home at 3pm, which means I've been sat on the sofa for 4 hours, doing nothing until I eventually succumbed to sleep.

I look back at Mikasa. All she ever does is frown at me nowadays. "I thought I told you to clean the house when I was at work."

Oh yeah, I was meant to do that wasn't I? "Yeah bout that, I can do it tomorrow. I forgot to mention but it's an inset day."

She puts her head in her hands and sighs. "And you didn't think to tell me this until just now?"

"Err... well I forgot... I've had a lot of things on my mind recently." I answer weakly.

"Hmph, freckled things no doubt."

Hot read anger flashes through me, burning and searing. "What did you just say?" I spit out the words through gritted teeth. Her silver eyes glint dangerously as she turns away from me.

"You heard me."

One day my mind will be my murderer. I see that now. As she stalks away from me, I see it. I see how this has been ruling my life and slowly killing me. I've been killing myself without realising. The thought hits me hard enough to send me reeling. How have I lived like this for 17 years?

* * *

I awake to Mikasa shouting everyone for dinner, not that I've been asleep, I've just been sitting trance-like on the sofa for god knows how long. The smell of freshly made pancakes rouses me fully from my comatose state. Hell fucking yeah, I have a deep need for pancakes after the day I've had. I all but leap up from the sofa and make the long trek to the kitchen in my quest for pancakes. I inhale deeply, I've always said that fresh pancakes are way better than any kind of drug.

I sit down at the table, eagerly awaiting the light, fluffy goodness. What arrives on my plate is not a pancake but a fucking microwavable quiche. I look to the kids, tucking into their pancakes. I look at my quiche. I look at Mikasa.

"I wanted pancakes." I whine, picking at the quiche with my fork.

"I'm not making any for you."

I whine even louder and stab the offending quiche with my fork, looking with pleading eyes at Hana and Laurence.

"No-one is denying you pancakes, Jean." Mikasa replies curtly and turns back to the hob, to flip the newest pancake.

"You might as fucking well be, you know for a fact I cant make them to save my life." I practically shout at her.

"Jean, stop making a mountain out of a molehill. I made you quiche, deal with it."

"I don't fucking want quiche, I want pancakes, why is that so hard for you to grasp?"

I am so making a huge deal over nothing, but I don't care. I'm angry and frustrated and I want to relieve some of the tension building inside of me, and this is the only way I know how.

She whips around and looks me straight in the eyes, challenging me.

"Jean Kirschtein. Shut up, sit down and eat your dinner before it gets cold." Her voice is level but chilling.

"No I will fucking not." Out of the corner of my eye I spot Laurence moving to get up with a half-eaten pancake left on his plate. Hell fucking no.

"Laurence William Kirschtein, sit back down right now and eat that pancake. I'm not letting you throw it away." I snap at him. He pales and does as he's told. I feel bad but I'm not gonna let him get rid of it when I haven't had any.

"Don't take it out on Laurence, Jean. Honey you don't have to eat it if you don't want to."

"Stop undermining my authority Mikasa! He can do as he's told and eat the stupid pancake."

"What authority Jean?"

"Would you just fucking stop it!! Both of you!!" All of our heads whip around to look at Hana. She's stood up with her head down, hands played across the table. Wet splashes form on the table, and soak into the grain. 

"Just stop it." She whispers. "I'm so fucking tired of you two getting at each other all of the fucking time. So just stop, for once, just stop it please."

Everyone stares blankly at her.

"So would you just stop? Please." She begs. I look at Mikasa. Tears are forming in her eyes. She steps towards Hana. All of a sudden she rushes forward to embrace her, but stops in her tracks at the harsh words.

"Don't touch me." 

Hana pushes past and runs out of the room, quickly followed by Laurence, I stand still listening to their feet thud up the stairs. I listen to Laurence's muffled voice trying to console her.

I don't even register Mikasa storming out of the Kitchen, until I hear the front door slam and the car roar into life and rumble away.

I just stand there. In the middle of the kitchen watching as the food slowly cools, abandoned.

Is this what my life has amounted to? Causing a full blown argument over something so trivial? Picking a fight whenever I can? It's pathetic. I'm so ashamed of myself. The sensation engulfs me. Tears prickle my eyes. Time moves on.

I stand in the kitchen crying. 

If he was here now, what would he say to me? Would he recognise me? Would he like what I've become. Would he still want me?

Time moves on. The only word that leaves my lips is his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? It won't be as sad/angsty next time. Next chapter is Marco again! I took inspiration for the pancake argument from one me and my mum had, she actually said to me no-one is denying you pancakes, but I actually shut up and ate my quiche unlike Jean.  
> I really can't believe how fast I'm updating this, those of you who're reading From Nowhere, know I'm awful for updating that but I'm super pleased I'm getting these out on time. So it looks like Friday is my update day, it'll usually be later in the evening though because I'm at school during the day.  
> Till next time folks and thanks for reading!! ^-^


	4. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I wanna know?  
> If this feeling flows both ways?  
> Sad to see you go  
> Was sort of hoping that you'd stay  
> Baby we both know  
> That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day
> 
> Crawling back to you
> 
> Ever thought of calling when you've had a few?  
> 'Cause I always do  
> Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new  
> Now I've thought it through
> 
> Crawling back to you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm back! It took a long time to crank this one out and for that I'm sorry. I was pretty ill for like 3 weeks after I last updated then I got into a funk, it took a huge amount of effort to write anything, and what I managed to write was a load of rubbish. Thank you all again for the kudos and comments, nothing motivates me more than knowing that someone, somewhere enjoys what I've created! This chapter is from Marco's POV. I hope you enjoy it! ^-^

I lie in bed waiting. All I ever seem to do is lie around, waiting. I pull open the curtain, and let the limp grey light drip into the room. It must have stopped raining not long ago, as everything is still wet. The clouds are etched bravely onto the silver sky. I knew it was a grey day after all. With a small tilt of my head, the clouds look ominous but become inviting again with the smallest twitch. It all depends on the angle. The scene looks frozen in time, but if course time waits for no-one and continues hurtling forward. What would life be life if time wasn't linear? Like that film Slaughterhouse-Five. If time was a never-ending loop, where I could experience my life in any order, would I be happier? Or is it for the best that time moves blindly onwards, even if most of us cling to the past.

I sigh loudly. Cloudy days always make me philosophical for some reason.

I check the time on my alarm clock. I feel bad for it really. I never use it; it's been denied it's one purpose in life. There we go again, cloudy day philosophy. Then again it's a rather stupid clock. It's got a large square face, and I suppose it's meant to be retro in style. There are two large buttons on the top that you're meant to press alternately to get the alarm to turn off. It's supposed to help you wake up, I don't have really have any use for it, considering I get up before my alarm anyway. It was a gift from a friend, so I haven't the heart to throw it away, but that doesn't stop me resenting the stupid thing.

When I had gotten home from work, I'd dropped all of my work things along the hall, in a trail of paperwork and pens and got straight into bed. I didn't want to think about all the things that could happen tonight. The thoughts followed me the whole day, rendering me pretty much useless.

The clock tells me it's 6 o'clock. Time for a shower.

I get out of bed, and wander down the hall to the bathroom, unbuttoning my wrinkled shirt as I go. My bare feet slap noisily on the cold wooden floor, a testament to how silent my life is now. I turn on the shower, and watch mesmerised as the droplets of water bounce of the bottom of the bathtub in short flashes, it looks almost as if someone is dropping a multitude of diamonds. The water catches the artificial light and sparkles beautifully. 

Before I get in, I turn to take off my glasses and put them in a safe place when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A tired old man with greying hair and tortoiseshell framed glasses stares back at me, wide eyed.

Is that really me? I look so old. A far cry from the always smiling, chubby cheeked, freckled kid I was in university. The freckles are still there, but they've faded, like I have. I know I'm still the same person, but I'm just muted, finding it hard to burst through the fast moving crowd with a colour strong enough to be noticed.

I run a hand through my thick dark brown hair, which is lightly greying around the roots. Luckily I'm the type of man whose hair just gets better with age. I can't imagine myself bald. I step backwards to get a better look at my whole body. Everything is sagging. I've developed a little pouch of podgy fat on my stomach, which I jiggle a bit with both hands. I remember in my 20's I had a nicely toned flat stomach, and tight bronzed skin, which apparently just begged to be touched. He loved running his hands all over me. I miss the feeling. It made me feel wanted.

I take off my glasses, fold them and step into the warm embrace of the shower. As I let the steam embrace me, my mind wanders to better things. 

* * *

 

I step out of the shower to be greeted by my sometimes cat. Securing the towel around my hips I reach down to scratch underneath his chin. His chest rumbles with a contented purr.

"Hey there Pinks, finally decided to come home did you?" His tail lashes from side to side, almost as if he's agreeing with me. My coal black cat, Pinkle Purr, doesn't spend a lot of time in the apartment. Pinks, as I affectionately call him, prefers to stalk about the city scavenging for food and females. In that way I envy him, all he actually does is eat and have sex. Although I read in a book that cats have problems as well and are highly misunderstood, the life he leads is a good one however you slice it. I bend down further to kiss the top of his head and give one last tickle behind his ear before I move out of the bathroom and into my room to get changed.

I flick through my wardrobe listlessly, considering everything and nothing to wear. I eventually pull out a garishly patterned shirt, with a matching cardigan and slim jeans. I pull everything on quickly and precisely. I find my wallet, phone and keys, flick off all the lights apart from the hallway one and lock the front door. 

Stuffing my keys into my coat pocket, I lean against the door. Puffs of steam curl up into the freezing air. I blow through my lips more purposefully, admiring the intricate fluttering pattern of my warm breath on the frost laden air. 

"It's way too cold for this." I mutter, before pushing off the door. I manage to successfully navigate the garden path without slipping on any stray patches of ice and before I know it, my feet are treading the familiar path to The Rose Wall Bar. It's a place I frequented often as a student, and I became good friends with some of the bartenders. Downtown Trost is filled with colour and noise as people wander the streets looking for a place to drink away the Friday night. Going drinking with my work colleagues isn't something I usually spend my Friday night doing, it isn't something I'm used to, even after working with the company for nearly 15 years. As much as I love people, I'm still not comfortable interacting with large groups of them. There's something about being in a large group that changes a person's basic principles, they become brash, harsh, rude and unforgiving. A pack mentality. Striving to be noticed, and to be the most interesting, the funniest, the sexiest and it turns them into the ugliest creatures imaginable. I hate it. I struggled with it a lot in high school, my friends constantly acting like they were at a party. It took a lot of hard work to be able to understand that I wanting to sit down and have a nice chat about illustration techniques was in fact normal. It took me a long while to find people I was truly comfortable with. It took me a long time to be properly open and not feel like I was censoring myself.

My thoughts are interrupted by a shrill squeal. "Marco, darling, you made it!" That would be Hanji, our resident lunatic as some people like to call her. She's the head of our floor, which always makes things interesting, to say the least. The bespectacled brunette launches herself at me, dragging along her less than enthusiastic husband Mike. He inhales deeply, or rather sniffs then greets me more conventionally with a small nod. Hanji, who has been cuddling me, leaps away singing,"Don't mind him, he's just a tad grumpy I dragged him out here in the cold."

We're stood on the pavement outside The Rose Wall bar, people continue to push past us, on their own journey. The lights inside the bar twinkle invitingly, and the cold bites at our uncovered faces. I greet everyone in turn, and we enter the stiflingly warm bar. We shed our coats like a snake does it's skin, and deposit them on the brass hooks that line the walls.

"So who's buying the first round?"  Mina giggles then quickly adds "Cos it ain't me that’s for sure!" She snuggles into Thomas's side and looks expectantly at me. Thomas pats me on the shoulder as I get up and passes me a crumpled tenner, and mouths his apologies.

"It's fine." I say quietly, so only he can hear. Even though I haven't been out a lot, I've got everyone's drink order memorised. I leave the group chatting amicably for now, as they'll soon become extremely rowdy. Thomas, would you believe it or not, likes to give everyone a very raunchy lap dance when he gets drunk. However Mina's natural zest and giddiness increases tenfold before she promptly falls asleep wherever she's sat or standing.

I reach the bar, and put in everyone's order. I carry the drinks back two at a time until everyone is happily sipping away. I squeeze past everyone and settle back into my seat next to Mina and Thomas. I sip quietly at my Archers and Cranberry, watching everyone intently as the drink starts to flow and their lips start to loosen.

* * *

 

After a few more rounds I'm definitely feeling the buzz of alcohol running through my veins. We've only been here about one hour and a bit, yet everyone including the usually stoic Mike is more than a little tipsy.

I watch as Hanji staggers to the bar and orders two shots of tequila. I keep watching as one of the shot glasses slides across the dark wood table and comes to a rest right in front of me.

"Oh no Hanji I can't." I try to wriggle my way out of taking the shot. Tequila is my weakness, much like many other people.

"Marco, darling pleeeasse!" She leans right over the table to clutch at my hands until she's practically lying on it. I shake my head and fumble around for the right words to turn her down with. "Marco! Be a lamb! Go on." I shake my head again and try to pry her off me. She turns her head sharply and I get whipped in the face by her unruly ponytail. "Mike, Mike! Marco isn’t being a lamb. Make him be a lamb Mike." She whines at her husband. "Just one Marco!" She cries as she turns back to me.

"Hanji I really can't." I attempt to reason with her.

"Mina! Mina! Get over here or you're fired!" She yells at the ceiling and looks about expectantly.

Mina pops up from nowhere still giggling, and holds Hanji's hand and stares deep into her eyes. "I'm here for you Hanji." She says solemnly.

"Listen. We absolutely have to get Marco darling to have a shot. It's a dangerous mission but I think we have the resources to make it happen. Now are you with me?"

"Yes!" Mina cries.

I shrink back into the booth as far as possible and try to come to terms with my fate. I drag my hands down my face and stare at the terrible twosome between my fingers.

"Do I absolutely have to?"

"Yes." They both reply in unison.

Ah well. You can't say I didn't try. There really was no dissuading these two when they put their minds to something.  I reluctantly lick the back of my hand and shake on some salt, helpfully handed to me by a devilish looking Hanji. I down the shot quickly, my eyes burning as the liquid flows down my throat leaving a trail of fire. I suck fervently on the lime as my eyes begin to water. I notice Mina and Hanji high five and I shoot them a weak glare.

"I now remember why I haven't had any tequila since I was 25. They taste so bad!"

Cackling, Hanji and Mina pass me another shot and I down it without question. I think I can allow myself one night of indulgency. One night won't kill me. I giggle to myself as Hanji whips about and raises her hand towards the ceiling and screeches. "Bar keep! 3 more tequila shots if you please!"

I decide right here and now I am going to have fun.

* * *

 

I wake up to a pounding headache and Pinks nuzzling at my face. I wake up not in my bed. I'm on the wooden floor of my study. What am I doing here? I don't remember anything past that first shot. I look down my body to find I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. A wrunkled blanket lays off to the side. At least drunk Marco realised that sleeping on the floor with a blanket is a bit more sophisticated than being without one. Still, sleepy Marco obviously didn't care for it, as much to my dismay as I'm absolutely freezing.

Pinks has finally stopped nudging my head and had wandered off somewhere so I sit up slowly. I wince as my back cracks loudly in the silent morning. My vision is slightly blurred so I bring my hands up to rub the sleep away and when I do, I spot it. A smudged phone number is scrawled across my hand in blue ink. There's no name. I stare at it, as if it's going to do something. I run the number over in my mind over and over trying to recognise it. I fail in this aspect but I end up memorising it instead. My hands make their way to my hair, and run through the left over grime from yesterday. I look around the office, I absorb it all in silence. I don't use this room a lot, it's almost foreign to me. I've never seen it in such a soft and appealing light. Out of the corner of my eye I spot my laptop flickering.

"Why the fuck is my laptop on?" I mumble out loud. My voice is hoarse and scratchy.

I rise from the floor and make my way to the desk. I plop onto the soft leather chair and wake up the screen. What pops up is the last thing I expected and the very last thing I wanted to see.

It's Jean.

The one and only Jean Kirschtein.

My chest tightens painfully. Breath catches in my throat and I'm choking for air. Tears sting my eyes and a dark bubbling pit of hatred, jealousy and love begins to form in my chest. He's smiling at the camera although tears are running down his face. He looks happy. In his arms are two beautiful new born babies. It can't have been long after he left me. While I was putting myself back together, he was starting a family. The thought fills me with a rage, an uncontrollable surge of hatred.

I pound the desk with my trembling clenched fists, making the laptop jump, and start bawling. Fat tears roll down my face and I'm sobbing, hiccupping and shaking. I'm consumed by the dark emotions that have been brewing under the surface for the past 17 years.

"That should've been _me!_ It should be _me!_ I loved him… I love him. Jean! Jean!" I'm screaming at the computer screen. Everything I wanted to say to him and more is spilling out of my lips in an unstoppable torrent.

My hand fumbles for the mouse. I continue to break as I watch Jean's life without me. I see his wedding. I see his children's first birthday. I see him love. I see him love someone else. I see him exist.

He exists without me, and that's what hurts the most.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! So the updating schedule will be pretty much non existent until mid-June. This is because my exams are starting in May, so I'm focussing all of my spare time on revising. But fear not! Come June 13th I'll have finished school so I'll have plenty of time to devote to this. Thank you again! ^-^
> 
> I have a Tumblr! You can find me at kisskissfallanddie. Drop by for a quick chat if you'd like!


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